


what would there be left to exalt

by keizeria



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Beginning of Redhood, Death Aniversary, Gen, Jason Todd is Robin, Light Angst, Rambling, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keizeria/pseuds/keizeria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't know this but in the next three hours, your life is going to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what would there be left to exalt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ComaAgain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComaAgain/gifts).



> Repost of my story I posted in Livejournal. I wrote this back in 2011 as a present for my friend [ComaAgain](http://comaagain.deviantart.com/) to commemorate Jason Todd's death anniversary. She drew [two](http://comaagain.deviantart.com/art/Jason-Todd-Exalt-1-of-2-207142411) [sets](http://comaagain.deviantart.com/art/Jason-Todd-Exalt-2-of-2-207142851) of illustration for this story. So go check it out. They are awesome :)

**WHAT WOULD THERE BE LEFT TO EXALT**

 

You don't know this, but in the next three hours your life is going to end.

 

You won't feel the explosion, the splinted wood piercing through your left thigh, the heavy ceiling collapsing on your torso, the burning scorch of flame licking through your body inside out, the pressure of air being forced away from your flaming lung. You will not know any of these. Because you will still believe _he_ will come. Just like always. Just like the last time. Just like in the beginning.

 

You will keep hearing something break, something snap, something twitch. But you will not know that they are the sounds of your own bones being crushed. You will not realize that the crowbar hitting dead-on on your body, on your elbows, on your rib cage, on your knees, at the side of your head; they are breaking every joint, every portion, every inch of your bruised form. You will not know these. Because you will be concentrating on coming up with an appropriate apology for _him_ when _he_ comes barging in, an apology for sneaking out when _he_ purposely tells you not to.

 

You don't know this, but in the next three hours you are going to realize that once you're alone, you're always alone. And there is no one to save you.

 

And somewhere in the distance, a boy will cry.

 

You don't know this, but in the next three hours _he_ will not going to make it. _He_ is not going to come. _He_ is never going to be in time. Never going to be on time. _He_ will always be late. Late. Late. Late. Always a little too late. A tad bit too late for you.

 

You will want to close your eyes but instead you will open them wide, blue eyes will stay fix on the door, fix on the handle, fix on that spot. The spot where _he_ will crash through. The spot you know _he_ will come. _He_ will come through. _He_ will save the day. Save your mom. Save yourself. Save your soul. Save you. This is what _he_ always does. What _he_ will always do. _He_ will always save you from someone. _He_ will always save you from yourself. _He_ will always save you. _He_ has to because no one else will.

 

You don't know this but in the next three hours, these will all turn into a big fat bundle of lies.

 

You will get beaten up, blown down, driven through, blasted away. And _he_ will not make it in time. _He_ will be so very, very much too late.

 

The last thing you will see is going to be the sight of your mom dying, of yourself coughing fire. _He_ will hold your battered, bruised, broken body in his arms, and _he_ will cry. _He_ will cry but _he_ will not understand why, _he_ will not see the big picture, _he_ will not cope. _He_ will only know that you are gone. That you are never to come back. That you are never to open your eyes. Never to smile. Never ever to smile at _him_. Never. Ever. Again.

 

You don't know this but if you think back real hard, you will realize that there hasn't been any smile for a while now. You have stopped smiling and let the smirk graced you face instead.

 

You don't know this, but when you think _he_ would notice, _he_ never would.

 

It is all blank, stuffy, suffocating, bleak silence. Disappointment clings to you like a second skin. You think _he_ would see all, dissect everything, realize, understand. But you will be wrong. You will think just because you are _his_ , _he_ will always care.

 

And somewhere in the distance, a girl will die.

 

You don't know this but in the next three hours, you will become replaceable, despicable, exchangeable, worthless. You will still be able to smile because you will still believe that all is right in the world, all is good, all is calm, just because you are _his_ , just because you are indestructible, just because you are worthy. 

 

You don't know this, but from one blink of an eye to the next time when you open your eyes, buried deep under the earth, _he_ will already find someone else.

 

You will wake up in the coffin, confused and scared. You will have no choice but to battle your way up, crawling away from the ground, finger nails scratching brutally under the wooden surface, under the damp hard soil, drawing blood, drawing pain. You will want to scream out but you will not find your voice. Your throat will feel as raw as if you've been drinking lead, and your vocal cords are all but rotten. You will hear nothing but the loud thump of your own heart beat, ta-dum ta-dum ta-dum, beating, squeezing, crying, the sweet consistent drum, ta-dum ta-dum ta-dum, and you will breathe in, breathe out, in, out, in, out, out. In sync with your heart.

 

You don’t know this, but you will end up some place else, a hospital, maybe. But to you it will feel like being suspended in limbo. Nothing will move forward. Nothing will move backward. Nothing will start. Nothing will end. And you will remember nothing. Feel nothing. Know nothing. But you will want. You will need. You will crave. You will crave so much. You will crave something. Crave someone. _Bruc..._ Just a raw craving. But you will not remember. It will feel like being suspended in limbo. And you will start to forget, start to let go.

 

The hospital will become solid; the ground beneath your feet will stop shaking. You will finally find your footing, find your strength, gain back your control. And you will start to heal again. You will start to live again. You will start to hate again. You will start to run.

 

_...But I'm here. I came back..._

 

You don't know this, but after getting away from that place, you will have to start living on the street. You will have to rob, steal, cheat, lie, fight, fuck. Lots of fuck. So many fucks. You will not be you. But it is going to be okay because you will live. You will be alive. You will strive. You will persevered. You will be wrecked. Damaged. Disgraced. Vengeful. You will be no one. Absolutely no one. You will be nothing.

 

But then you will saw a glimpse of yellow and red and green on the rooftop, and you will want to vomit. You will feel your heart constricted, and your sweat will break. You will feel your heart slow down, speed up, and your hands will shake. You will see a dark figure, a looming menacing figure, somewhere off, somewhere far away. You will want nothing but to run, run to him, run to them, run to the warmth, run off, run away, run back to somewhere with no light. Run and Hide. Just run. _He_ will not look at you because _he_ will not notice, never expect to notice. But you will not hate _him_ , never begrudge _him_ , never ever resent _him_. You just feel nothing at all.

 

You will be nothing but the cosmic energy waiting to strike. Oh, you will strike. You don't know this, but you will have a chance to strike. And you will strike hard. But you will not strike now. You will not lash out. You will not make your move. You will wait.

 

And somewhere in the distance, a woman will reach out her hand, grab hold of you, and take you away.

 

Somewhere where it's warm and dry, you will be fed. You will be clothed. You will be hurt. You will be trained. But you will not be loved. Not that love. Not the right kind of love. Not the love that you want. The one you used to have.

 

You don't know this, but when you think that what you will experience is bad enough, it will get worse. She will want to help you. _I just want to help. I just want him to love me._ She will want you to be her leverage, her hidden card, her way out. You will be led somewhere else. Somewhere dark. Somewhere damp. Somewhere lays the fire. The man will sneer. The others will be silenced. The woman will push. You will tumble. The others will watch. And you will drown. Drown and submerged. Drown and emerged. Drown and reborn. Reborn and complete. Reborn but broken.

 

Everything will be worse, much _much_ worse. Much more worse than you will be able to imagine.

 

It will be like the gate keeping the flood away break. It will all rush in. Everything will rush back in, rush forward, rush through you. Everything will come together, come back, come undone. You will run away.

 

And somewhere in the distance, a man will fly.

 

You don't know this, but even after all these times, even after you are back, you, being you, the real you, _he_ will still not get it. The point. The reason. The cause. The justice. You will come back and nothing will change, nothing will get better, nothing will make you feel like you being gone have made the difference. Nothing will leave a mark. Not even a scratch on the surface of _his_ squeaky clean mask. Nothing will ever get done.

 

And this time, you will be the one who get disappointed.

 

_...I've come back to do what needs to be done..._

_...Maybe I just come back to haunt you..._

 

But you can’t possibly know all of these because it will have to be another next three hours that you are going to die. Murdered. Buried. And mourned.

 

So now you smile at the reflection in the mirror and put on your cape because you don't know what else you can do, who else you can be. You are who you are. Cocky son of a bitch Jason. Royal to the bone Jason. Honest to God Jason. Passionate crime fighter Jason. Brutal avenger Jason. Just a lonely little boy Jason. You will drop by, find your mom, and be back before _he_ even realizes you've been gone. You will prove it to _him_. You will stay by _his_ side. Never leave _his_ side. Always be by _his_ side. And you will promise _him_. You will be worthy. You will be brilliant. You will be obedient. You will be everything. You will do anything. You will be what the city needs. You will be what the city lacks. You will make _him_ proud. You will make _him_ so very proud.

 

You will tell _him_ all of these. And you know _he_ will smile, because _he_ always smiles. At you. For you. Because of you. Then maybe you will give _him_ a kiss on the tip of _his_ nose, because that will make _him_ laughs. Bright. Loud. A clear kind of laugh. The laugh that will make your heart skips a beat.

 

It will be just for a little while. Just until you get back. Just a little while longer.

 

You don’t know this, but the next time you become alive, there will be no Jason shape by _his_ side anymore...

 

 

 **Started:** 110221  
**Finished:** 110223

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I heard it through the grapevine that someone plagiarized my story *gulps*. Please don't do it, hon. It ain't cute.


End file.
